


When I look into your eyes

by JonSanders (Nihilo_Nile)



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Language, Post Season 6, Romance, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihilo_Nile/pseuds/JonSanders
Summary: But there was one person who always noticed. Her intense gaze, bottomless pits of blue, always found a way to breach his defences like they were glass and she was a cannon firing at the fortress walls. She was the only one that truly understood him - she always had been.(Post-S6 - Jeff and Annie explore possibilities after she returns from her internship.)





	1. A Love Restrained

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Community or its original characters.
> 
> Both the title for this chapter and this story are lyrics from 'November Rain' by Guns N' Roses.
> 
> This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story. Any feedback will help.

Jeff paced back and forth along the length of the airport terminal. He didn't pay much attention to the externalities of the moment; the hundreds of passers by, the rustling of clothes and luggage as individuals and groups rush to make their flights. He was simply content to pace, allowing anxieties to flow unhindered from his damaged psyche. Anxiety about the past; a kiss shared in the study room. The present; The fact that Annie would arrive at any moment. No explanation required as to why he would feel anxious about that. And, of course, the future. The complete unknown. Anxiety's playground.

He could see them together. That was a distinct possibility. He could hurt her. _That_ was a distinct possibility. He could do something stupid in general. No need to process the probability of _that_ occurring.

Spoiler alert: It's an absolute certainty.

God. It just kept coming. So now it's clear that he would do something stupid. Time to see what stupids things he may do, just for the sake of preparation.

What if he proposed in a manic-induced moment of indecision?

Definitely a possibility. He's done it with Britta for Christ's sake. This thought caused him to gulp, pacing becoming more deliberate. He could feel his palms begin to dampen with cold sweat. If he proposed she would hate him, right? She would think that she was as disposable as Britta. She would think that he thinks nothing of her. In reality she was more to him than she could ever imagine.

Okay, so don't propose. He could do that. Yep. Right? Sure.

What if she decides they won't work together? Maybe she decides that he's too old? That he's not boyfriend material? What if the sex is bad? The thought was too much to comprehend.

It's going to happen isn't it? She's going to leave him. She's going to break his heart. The walls will go back up and they'll never leave again. He may have been miserable and lonely back in his lawyer days, but at least he could never get hurt in the way that only Annie had the power to. Maybe it would be nice to have those walls back. He never used to have anxiety spins about things like this. Things that could break him.

Maybe it'll be safer to be his usual guarded self.

His heart fluttered. He continued pacing. His throat clenched. He was sobbing. He really needed therapy.

Therapy.

He made his way over to the seating area and flopped down into the nearest chair, slouching forward and clutching at his chest. He was grunting and groaning because the anxiety was too much. He could barely breathe.

What would his therapist tell him to do?

He is in control. Organise thoughts. Push away negativity. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Breathe in deep, then out. In and out. In—

"Jeff, over here!" A cheery voice sounded from behind him. He didn't pay it any attention.

—And out. In deep. Count to five. Out. In—

"Jeeee-eeeff."

—And out. In—

"JEFF!" The voice was much closer now and had an irritated and harsh edge to it. He startled at the sudden noise and did a full one-eighty. There goes all the calmness.

"Wha— Annie!" His heart fluttered again and his breathing quickened. "Damn," He muttered. "Dammit, dammit, dammit," He curled forward and closed his eyes to continue his breathing exercise. He was _not_ going to have another anxiety attack in front of her.

"Jeff? Are you alright?" She said as she sat calmly in the seat beside him. She took his hand and caressed it with her thumb.

He released one last deep breath before opening his eyes and was met with blue eyes laced with concern.

"Hi." He managed to croak out. She squeezed his hand and grinned.

"Hi." She smiled.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm just... tired."

She squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Let's go. I'll drive, okay?" She said in a soothing tone of voice.

He nodded and allowed her to lead him out of the terminal towards his Lexus.

 

******

 

They arrived at apartment 303 just under an hour later. It was nearly midday.

The trip was spent in silence. Comfortable silence, but a silence uncharacteristic of Jeff and Annie. It wasn't her fault. She'd tried to make conversation. It was Jeff. He spent the whole trip staring out the window with a pensive look on his face like an alcoholic writer with a depressive disorder. Remove 'writer' and find a slightly less harsh term for 'alcoholic' and that pretty much described Jeff at his current stage of evolution, Annie mused. Although she wasn't really sure about the depressive disorder part. Maybe anxiety disorder was more accurate.

The point is that Jeff was acting strange. When they entered the apartment to the surprise welcome home party that he, himself, had planned, he greeted everyone with a curt nod and a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. He'd accepted a thank you hug and kiss on the cheek from Annie then wandered off in search of a drink. He wasn't even all that excited about Shirley and Troy being there. Although it wasn't much of a surprise for him, seeing as he was the one that had invited them. (Troy had arrived home some time during Annie's internship and Shirley came for a vacation.)

Now, thirty minutes in, Annie was sat at the table having drinks with Britta and Shirley. Troy, Professor Duncan, Craig and Jeff were sat around the TV drinking and carousing like the old friends they are.

Oh, except for Jeff of course. He was still wearing the same expressionless expression he'd worn in the car, taking the occasional sip of his scotch. Annie frowned at the sight. The last time he was even remotely like this was at the beginning of their fifth year at Greendale. When they were about to sue the school. She remembered thinking about how he'd changed that year from his usual charming self. His voice had been croaky and lifeless. It was as if the last time they'd seen him, at his graduation, he had a fire burning in him that kept him going. Then when she saw him in the study room after nearly a year apart his fire had long gone out. Doused by rain or sucked up by an air pressure vacuum or blown out by a chilly wind.

He was like that again now. It hurt her to see him like this. Openly displaying how truly broken he is inside. Displaying it to _her_ at the very least. Everyone else seemed oblivious to his situation. But Annie was his closest friend, and a friend well acquainted with psychological issues, at that. And after seeing him recovering from what she suspected to have been an anxiety attack back at the airport, the sight of Jeff being all detached worried her to say the least.

She turned her attention back to Britta and Shirley who were gazing at her with amused expressions. Had they asked her something?

"Yes?" She asked.

"I said, how was DC?" replied Shirley, still looking amused.

"Oh, um... it was different," She took in their expressions. "Why are you guys looking at me like that?"

"Well, I mean, you just spent the last ten minutes staring at Jeff." Britta teased.

"Did I?" She was staring at him again. Britta and Shirley groaned in unison.

"There it is again. The googly eyes." added Shirley.

"Six years, Annie. Six years and you two are still dancing around each other. It's starting to make me dizzy." said Britta.

Annie rolled her eyes. "We're not dancing around it anymore. And those weren't googly eyes!"

It took her a moment to realise what she'd just said.

" _Anymore_?" Shirley smirked.

"What- I mean-" She sighed. "I wasn't staring at him like that. It's just... has he been acting weird lately? When I saw him at the airport earlier I'm pretty sure he was just coming down from an anxiety attack."

Britta's eyes widened. "Really? Was he breathing weird? Sweating? Crying? Details, Annie, details!"

"His eyes were closed. I think he was using some sort of breathing exercise. And you didn't answer my question, has he been acting weird?"

Britta was writing in a notepad, oblivious to the question being directed at her.

"Britta!"

"Huh? Oh. Nope, same old Jeff. He's always been a moody douche bag. He has anxiety issues, remember?"

"Yeah, I guess," She conceded, although reluctantly. She wasn't entirely convinced. Annie sighed, then turned towards Shirley. "Anyway, enough about Jeff. How's your dad, Shirley?"

"He's dead." Shirley replied matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

"And if you had been listening instead of drooling over Jeffrey you would've known that."

"Oh."

"After two long years he finally succumbed to his cancer." Shirley continued in a more gloomy tone, clutching at the small golden crucifix that dangled from her neck.

"Mhmm."

"He was a good man and a great father."

"Yeah."

"It was..." Shirley trailed off as she tracked Annie's eyeline. "Oh, for the love of God, Annie, just talk to him!" Shirley blurted in a raised voice, causing Annie to jump in her seat. She'd been gazing at Jeff the whole time.

"Um... yeah, okay." But the last she saw of Jeff was his retreating back as the front door closed behind him, leaving a collection of bemused faces in his wake. She's pretty sure he was holding a bottle of scotch, too.

"Oh, Jeff..." Annie muttered. She left to check on him not long later.

 

******

 

Jeff was slumped back in the front seat of his car gripping the bottle of scotch in his right hand. He took another swig of the amber fluid as thoughts of the past hour drifted through his mind.

He had left pretty abruptly. He just couldn't take it anymore. She kept staring at him like he was a wounded puppy worthy of pity. Jeff Winger didn't want or need her pity - or anyone's pity for that matter. Sitting there listening to them laugh and banter was all too much. Why couldn't he be as happy as them? What was he doing wrong? He's just felt so empty recently. So empty and so damn aimless - like a plastic bag drifting in the wind.

God, now he's quoting Katy Perry; that's how pathetic he is these days.

He took another swig. The alcohol was starting to get to him now. Although he was far from drunk.

His self-pity fest was interrupted by three sharp knocks against the car door, the source of which was rather predictable.

He sighed and opened the passenger side door.

"Annie." He greeted her with a sigh.

"What are you doing out here?" She sat and closed the door behind her.

"Trying to clear my head with scotch and solitude."

Annie sighed. "What's wrong, Jeff? You've been acting weird ever since I got back."

Honestly, was there even a single, empirical answer to that question anymore? There was so much wrong with his life that he couldn't even begin to find the answer to it for himself. He'd spent so much time lying to himself, to others. To those he cared for. He lied and lied until the lies caught up with him and began to tear away at his carefully cultivated emotional protection. His license was suspended. That was just the catalyst. He went to Greendale. This was the beginning of a new chapter. He met the group. At that point the walls and lies all came tumbling down, bit by bit, as his Greendale family picked it apart by the thread, unravelling the damaged extremities of his heart until he was naked and vulnerable before them. He allowed himself to open up in subtle, barely palpable ways. Most didn't even notice when he did it.

But there was one person who always noticed. Her intense gaze, bottomless pits of blue, always found a way to breach his defences like they were glass and she was a cannon firing at the fortress walls. She was the only one that truly understood him - she always had been.

When he realised he cared for her more than anything else, it was all he could do to break under the pressure. Years and years he yearned but denied, let her in yet pushed her away.

Loved her but wouldn't let her love him back.

Then, down in that bunker, hooked up to Raquel with that dopey headset perched atop his head, he finally let go of the denial. He let her in without truly letting her in.

He was a walking, talking self-contradiction. He was so fucked up it practically reeked from his very pores, and now that was open for public viewing like he was a god damn circus freak. He hated it. He hated that he could feel so hurt. He hated that he could feel the abandonment that he'd been avoiding for decades.

He hated that she had so much power over him.

But it was her. People could say that it was Greendale. They could say that it was the study group. They could say what they wanted. But it was in all truth _her_ that pried him open, spilling the jumbled up contents of his heart onto the canvas like a Jackson Pollock painting. Because she was the only one that ever saw any good in him. From the very beginning she believed in him.

She was good like that. She was amazing. She could do, have or desire anything or anyone.

Yet for some reason she chose _him_.

The lying, self-loathing mess that took six years to admit to having romantic feelings for her.

God, he really needs therapy.

He let out a humourless huff of laughter because that was one the gloomiest epiphanies he'd ever had. "Holy shit."

Annie gasped. "Jeff!"

"Well, to answer your question, I have no idea." He smirked sardonically and took another long swig of scotch, allowing the alcohol to burn his mouth before swallowing.

"It's a simple question." said Annie.

"With a complex answer."

"But an answer none the less." Jeff could tell she was getting irritated.

"This is starting to feel like an interrogation," He was getting annoyed. He really just wanted to be alone. He tipped his head back to take another swig, but was stopped short as Annie snatched the bottle from him and placed it beside her on the far side of the car. "You're not gonna leave, are you?"

"Not until you talk to me."

"We're talking, Annie. Was there something in particular you wanted to discuss?"

"Answer the question, Jeff." There was something of an irritated edge to her voice. Her patience for his Winger antics was waning. He really couldn't blame her.

He sighed. "Everything's wrong," There it was again. That pitying stare. "Now give me my drink," He reached over her for the bottle.

"Jeff! Stop it!" She swatted at his arm as he tried feebly to retrieve the half-full bottle of scotch.

"I need it!"

"No! You don't!" She shoved him back against the door.

"Fine." He opened the glove compartment and pulled out an untouched bottle of whiskey. He waved it in her face like a petulant child who has just managed to steal a cookie from the jar.

"Oh my God, Jeff, it's only midday! Put that away!" She fumed.

He gave her a smug look before popping the cap and taking a swig. He smirked as the bottle left his lips.

"You have a problem." She stated in a strained voice. Her face was pale with rage.

He took another sip in response. "So I've been told. Are you going to leave me alone now?"

"You're such a jerk, you know that?" She stated in a hurt tone. If Jeff was slightly less drunk and/or depressed he might've felt guilty.

"I believe we established that fact a good six years ago," He gave her a quick glance, then sipped his drink. "Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

Annie didn't say anything. She gave him a pointed glare that somehow managed to convey all the hurt and rage she felt then got up and left, slamming the door behind her.

Jeff was pretty sure he should be running after her or some other cliché romcom crap like that.

Hey, he was still Jeff Winger, and a drunken, depressed Jeff Winger at that. He couldn't be held accountable for his actions, right?

_Dammit._

But, see, he really did just want to be left alone.

He placed the bottle back in the glove compartment and started the engine, despite his current state of intoxication.

It was about time he went home, anyway.

 

 


	2. Maybe One Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers, tribulations and revelations.

Jeff woke up to a killer hangover. That's just what happens when you down a fifth of scotch in one night.

He straightened up - much to to protest of his aching back - and scanned his surroundings in an attempt to fathom his whereabouts. He was in his apartment block parking lot. Somehow drunk Jeff had managed to navigate his way home safely.

Jeff let out a relieved breath and left to make his way up to his unit.

He couldn't remember much from the day before. Just snippets of what he assumed was an argument with Annie and some sloppy driving on a busy highway. God, he was stupid. He was honestly surprised he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree or, God forbid, had a high speed collision with some minivan housing a happy 1950's-esque family. That wouldn't go down well in his record.

Although his record hasn't been so good recently. He's failed in pretty much every aspect of his life in the past few years. Namely his failure to act upon his feelings for Annie. Christ, it took a goddamn love computer to show him what his emotionally stunted ass failed to notice; and now she's moved on. Maybe. It was a goodbye kiss, right? Goodbye _forever_ or goodbye _let's table this discussion 'till later_?

This was what his father did to him. The douche.

Amongst his other recent failures: A (second) failed law career, failure in the guise of a teaching job at community college ( _Greendale_ of all places), and, of course, the fact that he couldn't shake himself free from said community college. No, he's remained tethered to the accursed place like newborn child to first time mother. It was pathetic. _He_ was pathetic.

His therapist would tell him not to ramble about things like that, but he was hungover and couldn't be trusted to have coherent strings of thought.

Goddamn hangover.

As he made his way up the final flight of stairs and entered the hallway to his floor, he thought of how nothing could worsen this already crappy day. And it was only ten in the morning. That was saying something.

He sauntered blindly down the hallway as he fumbled for his keys before bumping into something small, bald and bespectacled.

"Jeffrey! Fancy seeing you here." Craig greeted with a bright smile and soft caress of Jeff's bicep.

Two words.

Evil. Genie.

"Yeah, fancy seeing me walking towards my own apartment." said Jeff.

He made an attempt to snake his way past. Craig predicted this movement because they do it every second day or so. It was starting to get on Jeff's nerves.

"Don't be like that, Jeffrey. I actually wanted to talk to you about something," said Craig. He leaned in with a conspiratorial smirk. "Maybe we could make a day of it. Lunch at the mall. Shopping," his expression transformed into something that could only be described as coquettish, "we could go for some _olives_."

Jeff grimaced. "Love to, dean, but I've actually got plans, sooo..." He made his way towards his door.

Craig pounced and grasped his arm.

"Wait, stop! It's important."

Jeff sighed and turned, brushing the dean's hand from his arm. "Okay."

"But, I mean if the mall's off the table maybe we could-"

"Spit it out, Craig." Jeff snapped.

The dean sighed. "This semester is the last before your contract is up."

"I was aware." said Jeff as he rubbed his thumb along the bridge of his nose in an attempt to massage away an oncoming stress headache.

"Sooo...?"

"Yes?"

"Were you planning on renewing?"

"That's all you wanted to ask?" Jeff's patience was waning.

"Maybe. I mean, the olives-"

"Enough with the _olives_. And yes, probably. Why the hell are you asking me this literally months before it has any significance to either of us?"

"Well, I just figured that with Annie back..." He gestured for Jeff to complete the thought for himself.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Annie and I have made no specific plans about our futures together, and as far as I'm concerned I'm stuck at Greendale for the rest of my life." Craig's face lit up at that.

"I knew you wouldn't abandon me," he lunged at Jeff and hugged him tight, causing Jeff to stagger backwards a few paces. "I thought you were going to run off into the sunset and leave me cooped up all alone in my little office."

"No one is running into any sunsets. I assure you," said Jeff. He couldn't deal with this crap for much longer. Not with a hangover like this.

"Well, that _is_ reassuring," Craig backed away from the embrace. "And you don't need to think of Greendale as a place you're _stuck_ with, you know? It doesn't have to be like a prison."

Jeff couldn't help but release a silent, humourless chuckle at those words because that's _exactly_ what Greendale is.

A goddamn prison.

"Yeah... Maybe." he said.

"So, how about our lunch-"

"See you later, dean."

Jeff practically lunged at his door with keys in hand and slammed it behind him. The loud thud caused his ears to ring and his head to hammer, but at least the dean was gone.

He had plans.

For now, however, he had a hangover to deal with.

 

******

 

Annie was seated at the dining table in apartment 303, laptop perched in front of her and coffee mug placed to the side.

She was skimming web pages for any local job openings in forensics. There were a few that caught her eye, although they all seemed a bit low-key for her tastes. Nothing like the FBI which had always felt significant despite the fact that she was a mere intern. For now, however, she was content with anything. It was just a pitstop before she could find something worthwhile, wherever that may be.

But as much as she'd like to forget it for now, her mind kept slipping back to the previous day. She wanted to be angry with Jeff. She really did. And she was, to an extent. But she was mostly just concerned for him. He had already seemed so distant the hours leading up to their fight.

She couldn't help but wonder if it'd had anything to do with their kiss the week before she'd left for D.C. It definitely seemed like the type of event that would send Jeff's anxieties spinning.

It perplexed her how hot and cold he was being about it. Weren't they past the whole denial thing? He'd seemed so ready to start something between them at the beginning of summer.

They'd been in touch a lot during her first week away. It was nice. Annie talked about her internship and how she loved how hectic it was all the time, how she always had something interesting to occupy her. Jeff would speak of his classes and Annie would chip in on his lesson plans or help him with syllabi and marking. He would tell her of the crazy occurences at Greendale and it would make her reflect on how absurd their time at Greendale had been. It really hadn't occurred to her at the time because it was pretty much the new normal for them.

Then she went away to D.C. and it was like she was a European colonist leaving the old world behind to enter a new continent where school-wide paintball wars and insane yam trials were seen as complete nonsense.

It made her realise that they were well and truly in their own little bubble at Greendale. A place where you could feel comfortable and accepted no matter who you were - a place where broken people could go to fix themselves.

However, it also made her aware of a certain toxicity to the Greendale bubble.

If you got too comfortable with it, it sucked you in. You'd get lost in the absurdity and the comfort until you've lost touch with reality and can't handle leaving the one place that accepted you.

Sometimes Greendale takes a broken person, fixes them, then in that person's delusional state, forces them to stick around until the thought of leaving the bubble has the potential to break them all over again.

Co-dependence. An odd form of co-dependence, but co-dependence no less.

Back to Jeff. They were in touch a lot in the first week of her internship. They skyped pretty much every night for at least an hour at a time and it was just like old times now that the air was cleared between them - now that they were on the same page. The conversation even bordered on flirtatious from time to time.

Then the calls became less and less frequent until they stopped entirely. In their last few conversations Jeff seemed preoccupied, constantly wearing that pensive look he'd had the previous day. And he always had a drink with him. Annie noticed this but said nothing because Jeff had always liked a scotch after a long day of work. Seeing him now, however, she knew for a fact that it was a problem.

And it worried her _a lot_.

Because he was her best friend.

And she loved him.

Annie closed her laptop and took the final sip of coffee.

She had an interview to prepare for and she wasn't about to let Jeff-related thoughts knock her off her game.

He's already had six years to make a move.

This time when she confronted him, she _would_ get an answer.

Otherwise she would leave, let go and this time never look back. She was giving him one last chance.

Because as comfortable as Greendale could be, it would only weigh her down in the long run.

And if Jeff was fine with remaining stagnant in his own denial, Annie wouldn't let that stop her from living her own life.

 

******

 

He'd promised himself a productive day.

He had plans.

He was going to work on material for his classes. They started in just under a week and he hadn't even started yet.

He was going to log some time at the gym.

But most importantly, he was going to call Annie.

Of course, what he did instead — being a drunken, depressed Jeff Winger and all — was laze around on his couch all day getting hammered on fine scotch (goddamn waste) whilst watching trashy reality TV.

It was already pretty much evening so there wasn't much point in remedying his complete waste of a day.

He'd tried. He really had. Each time he hovered over the 'call' button or was about to send a text he would back out, replaying one of many excuses in his head. In reality he knew they were just lies. The real reason he didn't call or text was because he was a coward. Plain and simple. A stupid, lazy, depressed coward.

God, did he hate himself. Did he mention he was a self-loathing mess? How in the hell do people even put up with him? Let alone someone like Annie.

He reached towards the coffee table to refill his glass when a loud knock at the door startled him. He jolted in his seat and knocked the small container of anti-depressants over to scatter pills across the mahogany surface.

He groaned in a melodramatic fashion because he really couldn't deal with this crap right now.

The knocking continued.

Maybe if he just ignored it they would leave.

Knock, knock.

It was probably just the dean with a fresh batch of olives or something. He really needed to figure that whole thing out. It was getting pretty creepy.

He took a sip of scotch and let the alcohol burn the back of his throat for longer than usual, just so he could feel something other than this incessant emptiness.

Knock.

Fuck—

Knock.

—off!

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. The whole apartment vibrated at that.

This really startled him, causing him to spill his drink all over the pristine leather couch. Shit.

But he didn't care at this point.

THUMP.

Ignore. Ignore. Ign—

"Jeff! I know you're in there!" a familiar shrill voice sounded from behind his door.

"Crap." he murmured.

He had really been hoping to avoid this particular talk until he was slightly less dead.

"Your car's outside, so just," she sighed resignedly, "just let me in? please?"

The softness in her voice is what won him over. How did she manage to sound so affectionate after he treated her like crap?

Jeff levered himself out of the couch and dragged himself towards the door. He looked through the peephole, although it wasn't really necessary.

Of course it was Annie. But rather than the hurt and angry expression he'd expected it was one of complete concern.

He turned the handle and inched the door open until he was entirely exposed to her.

She gasped because he was pretty much just wearing boxers and socks.

"Annie. Come in and I'll... I dunno, get clothes on or something." said Jeff as he retreated into his apartment to do just that.

He returned a few minutes later in worn-out grey tracksuits and a faded black t-shirt that didn't exactly scream 'Jeff Winger'. Although his entire appearance seemed rather off for Jeff. This didn't go unnoticed to Annie.

He was sporting an unkempt beard and his hair looked like actual bedhead — nay — _caveman_ head. The colour was drained from his face and he smelled like alcohol.

Put frankly, he looked like crap.

"You look..." said Annie.

"Like crap. I know." he gestured for her to take a seat.

Annie eyed the empty beer cans and half-full bottle of scotch, concern etched across her face.

Jeff slumped down next to her. "I'm going to assume you came here to talk about the other day, not to eye half my stash," he gave the mess that adorned his once-clean coffee table a glance. "Well, what's left of half my stash, anyway."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I mean, what the heck, Jeff? I was just trying to help."

Straight to the point. She would deal with the _them_ questions later.

Jeff sighed and reached for his glass out of instinct. He stopped half way and pulled back after seeing Annie's expression.

"I'm dealing with some stuff, Annie. I guess I was just... I just needed to vent."

She stared back with a strained expression.

"And I was the most convenient option?" she said.

He chuckled silently and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, yeah. I'm really sorry." he said.

Annie sighed. "It's okay," her expression softened. "We should probably..." Annie trailed off as something caught her attention. Her eyes widened as she brought a hand to her mouth.

Jeff knew what she'd noticed without even having to look.

"Jeff... Are those—"

"Pills."

She turned her gaze back towards him. The pained look she wore could've broken a lesser man on the spot. "You weren't going to..." She looked on the verge of tears at this point.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "No, I wasn't going to kill myself if that's what you were about to ask. They're anti-depressants. You know, for my depression."

"Jeff... I had no idea." said Annie.

"That was pretty much the way I wanted to keep it."

"But why?"

"Because I don't need you pitying me." Or understanding how pathetic I really am and how much better you could do, is what he was really thinking.

"I wouldn't do that, Jeff. But this isn't something you should go through alone." She was cradling his hand in hers.

"Well, it's been pretty much just over year now and I'm fine, so..." he shrugged as if it were nothing.

"You've been taking these for over a year now?" realisation seemed to dawn over her and the tears started flowing. "And that's why you've been... Oh, God."

"Please don't cry. Please. Just don't." He pulled her into his side so that her head was rested in the crook of his arm.

"I should've been there for you, Jeff. All the signs were there but I was just so caught up in my own crap." She sobbed into his side.

"No, Annie. It's not in any way your fault or your responsibility."

"I guess I was so caught up on trying to get over you that I just... I'm so sorry, Jeff." He winced a little at that.

"Yeah, well... I deserve it." he said.

"You don't." she murmured.

"Besides, Britta's supposed to be the therapist, right? It's really her fault for deciding to stop psychoanalysing me at the most inconvenient time possible." he said with a smirk. Annie conceded a silent huff of laughter at that, the small vibrations sending a warm buzz throughout Jeff's body.

"Yeah, I guess," She looked up at him. "So is that why you suddenly disappeared during the summer?"

He sighed. "Pretty much."

She nodded and inched closer to him and suddenly he was hyper aware of her presence and her closeness.

Her scent, her warmth, her touch. It was engulfing him like a warm bath after a tiring winter day.

It made him want to tell her everything.

That he loved her. That she was everything. That she was the only person he would even consider settling down with.

He _fantasised_  about it for Christ's sake.

The Jeff Winger of six years ago would topple over laughing at the prospect.

He really wanted to let it all out. But he couldn't; because despite everything, he was still the same coward he's always been.

So he settled for a lingering kiss to her hairline in the hopes that the action would demonstrate the sheer strength of his feelings for her.

She hummed in contentment because this tiny, seemingly insignificant gesture conveyed at least a fraction of what he truly felt.

Maybe one day he would let it all out. One day when he felt healthy.

It was what she deserved, after all.


	3. Mutual Brokenness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie gets formidable.

When he woke he expected he would follow his usual morning routine.

He thought he would wake to a dim, minimalist bedroom with blinds down and all lights out. Clothes and takeout boxes (Yes, he'd reached a point where didn't mind eating on his luxurious sheets.) would lay strewn about like the remnants of a medieval battlefield. He would roll out of bed and take a look, for the millionth time, at the mess that graced a once-pleasant hideout and promise himself to clean it up that day, whilst of course knowing full well that he wouldn't.

After enduring the arduous trek to his kitchen he would throw whatever he could find onto a piece of bread and consume it. He wouldn't even worry for a second about the carbs that most likely filled those slices of puffy whiteness.

Heck, sometimes he would forgo a morning routine altogether in favour of burying his head in pillows and groaning at his obnoxious alarm clock before giving in and forcing himself to turn the thing off. Everything was a damn chore for Jeff. From the moment he woke each day all he could think of was the short-lived reprieve that accompanied his next sleeping session.

Yet this morning differed somehow. He could sense it in the air before his body had even reached full consciousness. He disabled that obnoxious alarm clock and rolled out of bed, as usual. He slipped into whatever old clothes he could find lying about, as usual. Then he stepped through the bedroom door out into his hallway and... there it was. That was what was different. The curtains were open, allowing a stream of sunlight in to sting his unaccustomed eyes. Just what he needed. Another damn task.

Then he caught sense of an unmistakable whiff. Bacon. And _eggs_. And toast. The whole goddamn breakfast buffet.

He crept towards the source of the delicious plethora of aromas with caution, as an explanation for the potential gift from God had yet to appear.

As he entered the small dining area he thought maybe he should've guessed, because before him stood none other than Annie Edison, which perplexed him because he watched her leave the night before. He watched the door close before his very eyes. How in the hell did she even get in? And why did she see fit to wear his t-shirt without permission? What was she, his girlfriend?

Although he shouldn't complain, because she looked inexplicably hot in that worn grey t-shirt that could probably pass as a five-foot-three-brunette-sized dress. Shame she had those tight jeans on, he thought. He'd have really liked to see Annie without pants in that shirt which she probably stretched out with all the obsessive tugging and adjusting.

"Jeff!" She visibly jumped at the shock of seeing him standing there, staring. Annie blushed and bobbed her head at the attention.

Jeff cleared his throat after a few awkward moments, "Annie." He croaked. He made his way around the opposite side of the counter, where he noticed the table set with bacon, eggs and toast. And it looked damn good, too.

Thank Shirley's God for Annie Edison.

"Uh.... Good morning?" She made an abrupt one-eighty and returned to whatever task had previously occupied her attention.

"So... Care to explain?" Jeff said. He took a seat at the bar and looked her in the eye. "You're aware that breaking and entering is a punishable offense, right?"

She blushed a bright crimson red as she looked back at Jeff, "I _may--_ "

"— _may_?"

"Okay, I definitely _borrowed_ your keys before leaving last night."

He rolled his eyes, then took another look at the assortment of foods that adorned the counter top, "This is for me, right?"

"For both of us." She made her way around the counter and took a seat adjacent to Jeff.

"Nope. Definitely for me. You owe me one for stealing my keys then breaking into my place."

"Jeff! If I hadn't... _borrowed..._ your keys, then there wouldn't be any breakfast in the first place."

"You make a good point," he paused to take a bite, without taking his eyes off of hers for a second. "But you haven't explained why you also stole my shirt. That thing cost two hundred bucks, you know."

Her face flushed before stammering, "How do you know it's yours? It could be a past boyfriend's shirt. It could be Abed's, or Britta's, or--"

Jeff scoffed. "Please, Annie. We both know Vaughn couldn't afford a two hundred dollar designer t-shirt. He wouldn't even bother to wear it, anyway."

"He wore shirts..." said Annie, all of a sudden more interested in the cold, marble-patterned counter top.

"And Abed only wears shirts that are either based on Star Wars, Star Trek or Inspector Spacetime or has some other geeky innuendo printed across the front."

"In Abed's defense--"

"And as for Britta... Do I even need to explain?" He said with a raised eyebrow.

She sighed, "Well... no."

Jeff crossed his arms, "So, that leaves me. That's my shirt."

"I'm sorry, okay? I spilt egg on my own shirt and it got all sticky and gross." She said, frowning at the memory.

Jeff huffed a small chuckle in response, "It's fine, Annie. Keep it."

"Really?"

"Sure. You stretched it out, anyway."

"Thanks." She said with a pleased grin.

He attempted a smile back, but even he could tell that it looked forced.

She could see that underneath it all, he was, in the end, well and truly broken. She sighed at the sad thought before returning to her meal. Jeff frowned, gazing longingly at the tuft of silky brown hair that covered the side of her face.

All was silent save the soft clanking of metal cutlery touching ceramic plates. Jeff had his eyes fixed downwards towards his food, attempting feebly to ignore the impulse to stop eating and crash on his couch for the day. He really didn't even want to eat. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to watch trashy TV all day.

He wanted... no, he _needed_ a drink, goddammit.

Instead he sat still, forcing himself into this exhausting facade to convey a false sense of well being. He knew it was pointless, seeing as Annie already knew about his condition. Yet he soldiered on anyway like a complete idiot with no regard for his sanity.

And she just stared at him.

Well, not stared per se. It was more along the lines of the occasional surreptitious glance. He could feel her eyes on him. It made him nervous, like every second she spent laying eyes on him brought him nearer and nearer to another goddamn anxiety attack.

It took him a while to notice his clenched jaw and bouncing knee. But that was only because his focus lay on the clench of his chest as his heart hammered and his breathing shallowed. His hands were trembling with cold sweat as he gulped, cowering under the niggling urge to drink.

Annie, he noticed, had stopped eating all together, instead opting to gaze at him with concern. Apparently his body had betrayed more information than he'd intended.

"Jeff." said Annie in a soft tone.

"I'm gonna get a drink." He said, standing to walk towards his liquor cabinet.

"You can't." She stood.

"I can and I will," he turned, taking in her concerned expression. "Don't worry, Annie. I do it all the time."

"Exactly! You're always drinking and it needs to stop."

"Why, Annie?"

" _Why_? Because you're an _alcoholic,_ Jeff!"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know I've always loved scotch," he said, smirking, "and myself. And maybe my Lexus, too. Just a little bit."

"Typical. This is so typical. You're using sarcasm to avoid confronting your problems," concern had morphed into formidable in an instant as Annie shoved past him and swung open the cabinet that housed his prized possessions. "Well, here's the thing, _Jeff_. If you think I'm going to sit back and watch while you destroy yourself then maybe you don't know me very well."

Jeff's eyes bulged, "What are you... Annie, no!"

"One of us has to fix this. And it's not going to be you." She removed each bottle one by one, popping the caps as they clinked together right by his kitchen sink.

"Stop!" He took a step forward, towering over her.

"No." Annie practically had to push him to keep him away.

"Annie. Put that back."

"Why should I? So you can keep on drinking yourself to death? Nuh-uh. Not on my watch." Jeff watched on in horror as Annie began pouring the contents of each bottle down the drain. It was like watching the blood drain from his body. He needed the stuff to survive.

She'd reached his last bottle and Jeff just snapped. He _needed_ it.

"What the hell?!?" He lunged for her arm, causing her to stagger backwards, a gasp escaping her lips. He latched on like his life depended on it and, in the moment, he kind of felt like his life _did_ depend on it. Like it controlled him – like it influenced his choices and muddled his judgement. Without it he felt sick and dead. Alcohol made him _feel_.

And he realised that what it made him feel was temporary and destructive.

He realised that maybe. Just maybe.

He really had a problem. He'd become one of his old clients – an addict who allowed his issues to cause him to hurt others.

He was an alcoholic.

Reality returned as he observed Annie's shocked expression – _terrified_ expression. It took Jeff off-guard. She looked so scared. He'd never seen her look so afraid. It hurt him that he was the one that had put it there. It made him wonder what'd caused it.

It wasn't the vice-like grip he had on her arm, or the wild, maniacal look that he wore. No, because those things were believable.

What frightened her was the fist that had, much to Jeff's surprise, found its way to the air and poised itself to strike Annie down.

Then Jeff was struck with a memory.

He was just a kid, about eight years old. His dad had come home drunk for the thousandth time.

He'd watched on as William Winger beat his mother senseless. The night he'd left.

His mother had told him to hide. She'd shoved him into his closet. They were hiding away in his room. Hiding from the monster that lurked just outside, boots sounding with heavy thumps and floor creaking from the approaching dread.

 _"Just stay here and don't come out, do you understand?"_ She'd hissed then kissed his forehead, tears rolling down her pale face. His dad smashed the door down in search of his victims. He remembered the utter terror on his mother's face. He remembered as he listened to the whimpers and the shouting. His mother cried and cried for help but he couldn't do anything. He could hear the crack of fist to face and the thud of boot to gut and all the pitiful, heart-breaking noises that accompanied them. He remembered.

He remembered because Annie wore the same expression as his fist wavered in the air in front of her.

Jeff lowered his clenched hand and dropped her arm. He couldn't even look her in the eye. He wanted to say sorry to Annie -- he'd wanted to apologise to his mother for his inability to help. His dad had found him later and pulled him out of the closet. His mother laid unconscious on the floor, beaten to a bloody pulp. But he couldn't apologise.

Because he was next.

" _I'm..._ " He tried to force the words from his tightened throat. The only noise he managed to make was more of a strangled whisper.

He'd expected her to run away or slap him hard across the face, but instead she stepped closer and took hold of his hand; made him feel better with each soft caress of her thumb.

He looked down at their conjoined hands, then up at the beautiful, caring woman that stood before him.

What he'd expected to see was anger or fear.

But instead she just seemed... worried. Sympathetic.

None of the pity he'd received as a kid when people knew about the divorce and subsequent abandonment.

Through that expressive, tear-streaked face she conveyed naught but understanding and he just wanted lose himself in it.

No one ever understood him, and now he knew that maybe someone _did._

And somehow that person was Annie.

It just made sense. She'd always understood him better than most, except this time it felt as if there stood no guard for him to hide behind whatsoever and it just felt so... liberating. Weightless.

Maybe it was more than mere understanding, but rather a special bond that only they shared. A collective commiseration of sorts. A blood pact in mutual brokenness.

Because in all truth, underneath all the perkiness and optimism and drive there lived a broken soul. Deep down, etched forever into her subconscious, lay that part of her that remained Little Annie Adderall. A kindred spirit. Jeff could see it – he always could.

And now Annie could see it in him, too, and it just made sense. It just worked.

He drew her in for a hug and smiled, genuinely, for the first time in a long, long time. Because for the first time in a long time he felt a connection with someone. He felt understood. He felt wanted and needed and special.

He felt loved.

 

******

 

They'd spent the day camping out in his living room, sprawled out together atop his plush sofa. They watched dreadful reality TV and a few movies, making snarky comments at the participants and their fake tans and obviously setup reactions to dumb things.

They left their phones off the whole time.

They could do things like that together. They could spend their day in each other's company doing seemingly pointless, unproductive things.

Jeff didn't have a drop of alcohol. Annie managed to become the much needed replacement in that particular department.

He found that he had enjoyed himself for the first time in a while, with Annie properly back in his life. It hurt when she'd pulled away during their sixth year. Although he did deserve it after the whole Britta engagement panic.

He realised that he'd hurt her too many times and maybe it was time to stop sabotaging and start fixing. She deserved it.

For now, he would start by apologising. It seemed like the right thing to do after everything.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out. And judging by the look on her face he would have to elaborate. "For everything."

"Gonna need more to go on, Jeff." Although the smile that'd appeared on her face told him otherwise.

He stared at her like a gun primed to fire, then shot out at a record speed, "I'm sorry for not calling back after the tranny dance. I'm sorry for getting with Britta right in front of you on our first day back. I'm sorry for acting like a jealous jerk whenever you tried to move past me. I'm sorry for sleeping with Britta when we obviously had our own thing going on the whole year. I'm sorry for shooting you down when you confronted me about it. I'm--"

The rest of his ramble died into her mouth as their lips crashed together. He could feel the smile on her face and she could probably feel the bewilderment on his.

When she moved back, she said, "I forgive you, Jeff. That's all you ever had to say."

He gulped, eyes unwavering in his gaze into hers, "Really?"

She nodded, a genuine smile not leaving her lips, "Of course."

And all of a sudden he felt like slightly less of a jerk. She could do that to him. Make him feel worse than Hitler for one second, then like Mother Teresa the next.

"Look, I can't offer you much right now."

"I know."

"I've got my own issues to resolve before I can give you more. I need your help to reach that point."

She nodded in understanding, "I'll always help you."

"But for now, you should know that I..." And like usual when things get too open and honest for his liking, he hesitated. Old habits die hard, right?

But the look of hope and expectation on her face drove him on. She could also do that to him. Make him do things he otherwise wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole.

"Go on." She smiled.

"I..." He gulped down his fear because she deserved it. "I love you." He looked up at her and saw a level of genuine happiness he'd never seen on her. She didn't look surprised or relieved or afraid, like he would've expected.

It almost seemed as if she'd known all along. She probably had.

"I know," Jeff furrowed his brow in surprise. "And I love you too. I have for a long time."

"How?" He asked, genuinely curious.

"In the study room. Before I left."

"But I didn't even say it."

"You didn't have to. I could just see it on your face. You've never looked so vulnerable before and I thought that... I don't know, there was no other explanation. You just looked so lost and... forlorn." She explained.

Jeff looked pensive for a moment, "You know... I think I've loved you for years now."

Her eyes bulged in surprise, "What?!"

"Yep. But it wasn't until..." He hesitated, "Until Borchert's Lab that I actually realised."

" _Years_?!" She blurted, seemingly unaware of his admission.

"Annie, do you not know me? I'm so out of touch with my emotions I may as well just be a robot." He stated like it was set in stone fact.

Annie looked surprised for a moment, "Wait... did you say Borchert's Lab?"

 "Yes."

Her face contorted into a million different emotions before settling on soft and wistful, "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Do you remember what you said? Down in the bunker?"

"We have to let each other want what we want." She sighed.

He took her hand in his, "Well I was letting you want what you want. I didn't want to hold you back. And the fact that you treated me like I had the black death or something that whole year didn't help."

"Sorry." Annie looked down at their intertwined hands.

"Don't apologise. It made me realise how much I actually liked having you in my life."

She smiled, "Me too."

He sighed, before continuing in a sincere tone, "I'm sorry that all I can offer you at the moment is a washed-up, old, depressed loser in a dead-end job--"

"Jeff..." She attempted a feeble defense.

"Recently I never thought that I could change again. At least not for myself. But I think that..." He gulped, then looked deep into her eyes, "I think that I can at least try to change for you."

She smiled, not one of those megawatt smiles that lit up a room, nor the one that she used to appear happy or to please others. It was the small, genuine one that she tried to suppress. The one that usually accompanied an adorable little blush and an endearing bob of the head.

Just from that, he felt his own genuine smile appear. It was the second time in many months that he'd felt genuinely happy, although it was fleeting; like a small ray of sunlight in the mist. Because making her happy made him happy.

God, when had he become such a sap?

They returned to their previous activity of TV binging. The fact that they now sat so that their thighs were touching went noticed but unmentioned by both.

They spent the rest of the night like nothing had happened; because in a sense nothing _had_ happened. They'd loved each other for years and it showed.

Annie fell asleep in Jeff's bed, wrapped in his arms that night. Who needed sex, anyway?

At least he got to see Annie in his shirt without pants on. It looked hotter than he'd imagined.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. The Butterfly Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recent changes take their toll.

Jeff waded through the early morning ocean of students towards his office where, hidden within his drawers, his morning ritual awaited his eager hands. Of course by ‘morning ritual’ he meant ‘cheap scotch’. He made his way towards the door and turned the knob, half expecting the Dean to pop out at any moment in some ridiculous costume. But he reminded himself that their friendly neighbourhood nutcase (this side of Chang) had tamed over the years.

As he pushed the door open, his body tensed in anticipation of the usual burst of cold air that came during early Greendale mornings. Instead, he was met with a much different burst of something. That’s not to say that the cold burst didn’t come, because it most certainly did. It’s just that Jeff felt a sudden realisation coming on. He didn’t have any cheap scotch hidden deep in his desk drawer. In fact, ever since Annie had purged his apartment of any trace of alcohol he hadn’t bought any new bottles to replenish his campus stash - or any stash for that matter. For a moment, he panicked; his heart raced and chest clenched and his mind fogged over with dread.

But he pictured Annie’s face whenever she was proud of him - the way she’d beam so genuinely. He reminded himself why he’d quit and the panic would vanish. Annie-smiles. The best kind of therapy.

Jeff slumped into his chair with a sigh, willing only for his body to stop aching for no apparent reason. And he was so damn tired. He hadn’t had much sleep over the past month. He’d lay awake for hours as the rest of the country slumbered in peace. Sometimes he would get to sleep only to find the he’d woken hours ahead of schedule. Otherwise he would wake multiple times during the night. It was exhausting. Even for Jeff, who had never been very good with sleep in general. He felt overwhelmed by it all. The misery and hopelessness. That evil whisper prowling at the back of his subconscious that put a damper on every little thing, made him feel worthless.

The alcohol provided him with the sort of reprieve which had become a luxury. With it gone he had nothing. At least that’s what his anxious, downtrodden mind would have him believe. Other sources, including but not limited to Annie Edison, suggested regular exercise and therapy and social connections and the like. In retrospect, Annie and other sources were probably more than right. But for Jeff - a man who could barely force himself out of bed most days - the thought of regularly doing things kind of terrified him.

It’d been a while since he had any semblance of normality and routine. In all honesty it’d been a while since he’d been alive at all. He would put on the facade for the group, then in the privacy of his apartment recede into a shell of eternal despair.

A crappy way to commence his road to recovery, ruminating over such melancholic thoughts.

His phone vibrated and he groaned. But when he saw who had sent the text, his frown morphed into a sort of twisted, reluctant smile.

**Annie Edison: Good morning! <sunshine emoji><heart emoji><kiss emoji> How are you feeling? <worried face><heart emoji>**

Despite himself, he felt his smile deepen and that warm, fuzzy feeling that he got whenever she showed how much she cared swelled in his chest - even if the gesture was as simple as a text. In his current state, it meant everything to him. He’d only ever wanted to feel loved. For the longest time he’d denied it - denied himself. But he’d come to terms with his inner pudgeball long ago. He would never admit that out loud, but that didn’t make it any less true.

How did she always manage to do that to him? He just wanted to brood.

 

******

 

Jeff sauntered into Group Study Room F, conveying his usual sense of aloof confidence. Britta smirked up at him from her place at the study room table, her face one of non-verbal mockery - all smug and self-satisfied. It kind of pissed Jeff off. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the roommate thief. Your punctuality, or lack thereof, astounds me as usual.” Britta said.

Jeff rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat at the head of the table. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his phone. If they were going to do this, he needed a buffer. He peeked at Britta in an attempt at appearing nonchalant.

“Look, Britta, I know we had our thing a few years ago but you should probably stop drooling over me like that,” he returned her gaze with a smirk, “it’s unbecoming.”

She scoffed and leaned backwards, crossing her arms over her chest. “Unbecoming. Right.”

“I mean, I don’t blame you. How could you resist this?” He gestured towards his face and chest.

“If by _resist_ you mean _endure_ ,” Britta paused for a moment, feigning deep thought, “then I’d recommend a shit ton of booze. Also maybe some sort of prescription blood pressure med like proprana... something.”

Jeff snorted. “You mean propranolol? I’m honestly surprised you know what that is, despite your being a psych major.”

Britta glared, then smirked as she thought of an appropriate retort. “Yeah, well --”

“-- God, you guys! I just got back!”

“Sorry, Troy.” Britta said. She glanced his way and their eyes met. Surprised to see her own wistful, longing expression mirrored in his own, she bit back a smile and blushed. She averted her gaze only to witness Jeff looking on in amusement.

Britta threw her arms up in exasperation. “Ugh! Can we just get on with this? I have... things to do... and stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have plenty to do being such a productive day planner.”

“I can think of a productive day planner _you’d_ rather be doing right now.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. He cleared his throat and returned to his phone.

Britta chuckled. “And the cat’s out of the bag.”

Jeff cleared his throat again. “Anyway... Improve Greendale. Right,” they all sat in awkward silence as he shifted in his seat. “No idea. Frankie?”

Frankie sighed. “Of course. First there’s the issue of the Dean’s newest impulse buy - a giant...”

Jeff drifted off after that, allowing his mind to wander elsewhere as it so often did those days. He didn’t much want to know what kind of giant body part Craig had wrangled this time around. Without hesitation he opened his messaging app and opened his chat with Annie. If he was going to pretend to pretend to text someone, he would at least like to enjoy the experience. And he had it on good authority (his own experience) that conversing with Annie, whether in person or over text, was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. He commenced typing.

**Jeff Winger: how’s life?**

**Annie Edison: How’s life? Really, Jeff, you’ve dulled over the years.**

**Jeff Winger: how’s life, and is god dead?**

**Annie Edison: Har har. Why are you on your phone? Aren’t you in a committee meeting?**

**Jeff Winger: yeah but i pawned it off on frankie.**

**Annie Edison: Jeff! You’re like the bona fide leader of Greendale. You should be setting a better example!**

**Jeff Winger: so actively making an effort to subvert gender roles isn’t a good example in ur books? shame on u.**

**Annie Edison: <eye roll emoji> You can’t fool me, Jeff.**

**Jeff Winger: whatever. so what’re u doing?**

**Annie Edison: Get back to work, Jeff.**

**Jeff Winger: as if u want me to.**

**Annie Edison: <sigh emoji> Okay, I’ll tell you about my day. If I must.**

**Jeff Winger: geez. u don’t have to act all put upon about it.**

**Annie Edison: I’m still at your place. I’ve been revising my applications to a few post grad programs. Just a few more hours and I think it’ll be good.**

**Jeff Winger: “just a few more hours” she says.**

**Annie Edison: You know how important this is to me.**

**Jeff Winger: annie, of course i do. but u gotta loosen up sometimes.**

**Annie Edison: I can be loose! Loosey goosey, even. Besides, I think I know you well enough by now to know how very un-loose you are most of the time, Mr. Keeps-his-toiletries-in-a-safe.**

**Jeff Winger: please, i am the epitome of loose. i am the king of the cool, the god of not giving a crap. emperor of all that is holy in the land of confidence and aloofness.**

**Annie Edison: You don’t need to hide yourself from me, Mr. Pompous-metaphor-guy. I love you for who you are.**

He felt his body do that warm tingly thing again. But unlike his old self, he didn’t attempt to suppress it or deny it. Instead he embraced it, embraced her. So this was what love felt like, he thought. He once again berated himself for waiting so long before acting.

**Jeff Winger: love u too.**

From the euphoric fog-like interior of his little Annie-bubble, he didn’t notice Britta observing him, face scrunched up in thought and tinged with worry.

 

******

 

“Hey Jeff! Wait up!”

He turned to see Britta jogging towards his side. With an irritated once-over he resumed the exhausted march to his next class.

“Christ.”

“I was watching you during the meeting -- don’t you dare!” His smug smirk slipped away slightly. Britta sighed and reached for his wrist. “Give me your hand.”

“Hey!”

“Show me. God.” They stopped in the middle of the hallway as Britta lifted his hand closer to her face.

“You’re not gonna’ lick me are you?”

“Can it,” she observed for a while longer, just long enough to discern what she wanted. “Look. You’re trembling. More than usual, I might add.”

Jeff stooped closer. “Huh. You’re right.”

“You’re sweating too.”

“We all sweat, Britta.” He continued the journey to his classroom.

“I think you should get it checked out.”

He rolled his eyes. “This isn’t another one of your _oh so professional_ attempts at therapizing me, is it?”

“No, jerkwad! This is me worrying about you as your friend,” her eyes widened and she tapped his arm like a woodpecker with the back of her hand. “What if it has something to do with your drinking?”

Jeff looked back at her to see genuine concern. With a sigh, he said, “Fine. I’ll go see someone about it. But I’ll have you know that I am now proudly riding the proverbial wagon.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Annie just waltzed in one day and purged my apartment. Haven’t had a drink since. I know - I’m such a benevolent being.”

Britta nodded to herself a few times, eyes widened slightly. “Huh. So you and Annie.”

“No-- Heck, you know what? Yes. Me and freaking Annie. We’re together now. Happy?”

Britta huffed. “So, what? She just walks into your apartment and bosses you around now? You are _whipped_.” She chuckled at his now exasperated expression.

“And that’s my cue to leave.”

“Later, man-slave!”

“How’s Troy?” He called back.

Britta looked down and mumbled obscenities under her breath. She heard Jeff’s laughter fade into the distance as he entered his classroom.

 

******

 

Annie entered Jeff’s apartment carrying two bags of groceries. She placed the bags by the door then went to place the key back in its hiding place under a small crease in the carpeting. It was evening and Jeff had offered to cook dinner for them despite how much he’d been struggling in his current condition. Annie found it undeniably sweet and if it weren’t for the benefits he would gain from putting effort into something and maybe starting a routine, she would’ve declined.

She closed and locked the door, picking up the bags and making her way to the kitchen.

“Jeff?”

No answer. None of the aromas one would expect from recent cooking. Just silence. He probably just got caught in traffic, she thought.

“Annie.” Jeff’s exhausted voice croaked from the couch.

She crept towards his voice and perched herself at the arm of the couch. “Jeff, what’s wrong?”

“Feel like shit.” She switched on a nearby lamp and Jeff groaned as the brightness hit his eyes. He turned away with a groan. Annie creased her brows in concern. She moved closer to him and placed a soft palm on his forehead.

“You’re burning up.” Annie reached towards the coffee table and took a tissue to wipe the sweat from her hand and his head.

“Christ. Should’ve listened to Britta.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck. I dunno’. Call her.” He rolled his face into the pillow.

Annie reached into her purse and retrieved her phone. She dialed Britta and after a few rings, she picked up.

“Britta. What happened with Jeff today?”

 

******

 

Britta told her everything about how Jeff’s hands had been trembling and how he was sweating to an abnormal degree. She returned to Jeff’s side.

“Jeff.”

He grunted in response.

“Jeff, I think I know what’s wrong. I’m going to take you to the hospital, okay?”

Jeff’s gaze shot up to her in panic. She caressed his cheek and fought to keep her tears in. “Just in case it gets worse. You’ll need proper treatment.”

He seemed to relax slightly at her words. She stroked his hair once and leaned in for a kiss. After a few moments she pulled back and pressed her forehead to his. “You’re going to be okay. Just get up. We should go.”

Annie stood up and reached a hand out to help Jeff up. He rocked a little but with Annie’s help managed to keep up right. He mumbled something incoherent.

“What?”

“Gonna puke.”

Annie’s eyes widened as Jeff toppled forward onto his hands and knees and poured to contents of his stomach all over the floor. She gagged at the sight. “Jeff, we need to go, okay?” She helped him up again and grabbed some tissues to clean his face.

“Sorry.” He whimpered. Annie barely contained a sob and caressed his cheek.

“Don’t be. Please. Let’s go.”

With an arm draped in a most unromantic fashion over Annie’s shoulder, they made their sluggish way out of the apartment and towards her car. Annie thought the hospital may seem a bit excessive for what she suspected ailed Jeff, but she knew from experience that this sort of thing could spiral out of control if left untreated and she doubted there were any medical clinics open so late.

“Annie.” Jeff muttered as they entered the vehicle. But she was too focused on the task at hand to pay much attention to his quiet beckons. “Annie I think I’m dying.”

She glanced at him before returning her eyes to the road and starting the engine. “Jeff. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I am. I’ve never felt this bad before.” He moaned in pain and clutched at his abdominal area, curling forward in the process. “See? Christ. I think I have appendicitis. Do I have appendicitis?”

“You’re rambling, Jeff. It’s just your anxiety speaking. And I don’t think it’s appendicitis.”

“No, no - I think it is. People die from this, right? I might die, Annie.”

She turned his way to see the frantic look in his eyes. She’d seen Jeff’s neuroticism and anxiety in action before but never at its height. A small smile etched its way across her face as she realized that this was something she’d have to get used to if she wanted a life with Jeff, which she definitely did. A weird thing to smile over, she thought. But she had long ago noticed that she loved Jeff and was well aware that he was quite flawed. She made a mental note to do some reading on generalized anxiety.

She reached across to take his hand in hers and squeezed, not once taking her eyes off the road. “Jeff, listen to me. You’re not dying, you just need some help from a professional, okay?”

He released a deep breath and nodded once. “Okay.”

Although he sounded reassured, his pulse still fluttered with palpitations and he was still hyperventilating. Annie wanted nothing more than to make him understand, make him know that he would be alright. With a sigh, she said, “If it helps, I went through the same thing and I’m still fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Although it wasn’t the exact same kind and I’m still not entirely sure that you’ve got what I think you do.”

“What do you think I have?”

She shook her head and smiled his way. “I don’t want to make you panic anymore than you already are,” she saw him nod once from the corner of her eye. She squeezed his hand once more before retracting it. “Let’s just see what the doctors say, alright?”

“Alright.”

The drive proceeded in silence. She watched other cars zoom by and the blur of houses flash in and out of her vision and, despite current circumstances, she felt a warmth spread throughout her body and butterflies in her stomach. She could get used to this, she thought. Not the whole ‘Jeff medical emergency’ thing, but the domestication of it all. The peace and contentedness. The simplicity. Them, together, doing something as mundane as driving together in silence. She looked over at Jeff and saw a warm vulnerability in his eyes gazing back and she knew that he was thinking the same thing. She smiled and he smiled and no words were required to decipher what they both felt and wanted to say.

She’d always wondered what love felt like, if what she really felt for Jeff was love. But she’d never felt so sure of it before that moment.

With a shake of her head she returned to reality and directed the car into the hospital entrance. She could mull over her epiphany at a later date when Jeff’s condition was stable.

 

 

 

 


End file.
